Parts

When I find all my parts
In their proper place
With my nose stuck on my face and
Arms dangling from shoulders
Like shirt sleeves on a hanger,
When my heart wallows in its dark pocket
And my head precariously perching
On its pedestal, I want to say….

This is the sum if it; my body,
With which I sense the earth while
Walking fields, yellow and green, feet
Crushing unsuspecting blades of grass
As they yield to my intrusion,
Seemingly with abandon and grace.

And still while in this place I am
Aware of the fullness of
The spiraling of galaxies like
Water spinning around the rocks
In the creek where the tiniest
Of my parts drowns
In the cold wet tears of the earth.

Ron Russo